


(Welcome To) Far Far Away, or The Tale of Wolfskin and the Fox Prince

by scarlettletterr



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (duh! it's a fairy tale), Allison is not an Argent, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Baker Derek, Baking, Curses, F/M, Fairy Allison, Fairy Erica, Fairy Lydia, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fox Stiles, Happy Ending, Hiding, King Sheriff Stilinski, Light Angst, M/M, Mates, Mention of Characters' Death, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Prince Stiles, Slow Build, True Love's Kiss, Werefox Stiles, Werewolf Derek, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-08-03
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4447877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlettletterr/pseuds/scarlettletterr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a wolf sleeping in the cabin on the outskirt of Beacon Hills, and a fox in the Prince's chambers. This is a tale of magic, of lemon cakes, and oblivious idiots falling in love in the country of Far Far Away.</p><p>---</p><p>aka. A Fairy Tale AU where Derek is Donkeyskin and Stiles is Fiona but also Aurora.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This is my second participation for the Teen Wolf Reverse Bang 2015!  
> This Fairy Tale AU was inspired by the incredible piece of AredBlush that you can find [right here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4445528), please cats, go have a look and giver her lots of love and kudos because IT'S WONDERFUL I THINK I'M IN LOVE! -she also did a piece just for my fic, [check it out](http://aredblush.tumblr.com/post/125744298041/art-inspired-by-welcome-to-far-far-away-by), it's the cutest thing ever!-.  
> I want to also take a couple of lines to thank [Carly](http://serpensssortia.tumblr.com) for all the support she offered me because I was so afraid to not meet the deadline! She's an incredible beta and she really helped me with the whole curse thing that just didn't make sense in my head after writing it!
> 
> I'm just so glad I've been able to write this fic, because the artist was so talented, and also she liked my fic so I'm really happy, and I hope you cats like it too! Your comments mean the world to me, whenever I read them I'm always blushing and giggling because you're always so supportive and full of love, you're the best cats!
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr](http://pfudorqueen.tumblr.com) if you wish!  
>  
> 
> P.S: list of fairy tales/fairy tales character  
> \- derek hale : donkeyskin  
> \- cora hale : snow white  
> \- stiles stilinski : fiona & sleeping beauty  
> \- jennifer blake: the evil queen  
> \- magdalene argent: maleficient  
> \- lydia, erica, allison : flora, fauna, merryweather
> 
> Disclaimer : These characters belong to MTV and Jeff Davis ; I do not own any TW character or material

Derek was running. The forest around him was the same one he had been riding in since he was old enough to stand on his own on a horse, but that night everything looked different. Maybe because he wasn't riding a horse this time and trying to avoid branches, but was instead on all fours, trying to avoid roots. His senses were driving him crazy, picking up on smells he had no idea even existed. In other circumstances, Derek would have been delighted to stop and analyze what was happening around him -and what was happening to him- but now was not the time.  
Right now, he had to escape and find shelter somewhere _anywhere_. Anywhere away from Jennifer.

Derek tripped on a root, not yet fully used to having four legs instead of his usual human two. He went flying and bounced back, resuming his flee. Adrenaline was keeping him going, but he knew that soon enough, he'd need to stop to process what was happening. Right now though, he just pushed it into a dark corner of his mind and focussed on saving his skin.  
Some might have said that Derek was one of the most unlucky men in the country, and they would have been right.

Out of breath, Derek stopped by a river, panting, his newly long tongue hanging out of his mouth. He pawed at the water and put his muzzle in it, drinking the cool water. It was amazing. Maybe if he stopped here for a few minutes to drink some water and get some rest, he would be able to run all night long…

Derek dropped down onto the floor, putting his hand between his paws, his heart beating fast in his ribcage. He wasn't used to so much exercise. Usually, his horse was the one doing the running, not him!

The only noises he could hear in the forest were his breathing and the cries of nearby owls. The guards and their dogs had probably lost his trail by now, so he felt safe. Safer than he had felt in years. Safe like he had felt before the fire.

-

The Hale family were very well known in the kingdom of Far Far Away. They were one of the oldest Duchy still around. They were wealthy but they were especially known for their kindness. Talia and Jeremiah Hale were loved by every single person living on their Duchy, and none ever complained about their lives. When winters were long and harsh, their people knew that they could request an audience and ask for help. They knew they would be heard, and that they would be safe. People respected them, and if some thought about taking advantage of the Hale's kindness, they were run out of town by the people themselves.

Talia and Jeremiah had five children. Laura, their eldest, Andrew and Cole; twins, Derek, and Cora. Peter Hale, Jeremiah's brother, and his wife, Emilia also lived in the mansion along with their daughter Penelope.  
As was common at the time among nobles, their children were betrothed in order to form alliances with other noble families. However, unlike most, Talia and Jeremiah were waiting until their children's fifteenth birthday to find a match. They would rather have their child marry for love than for duty, and wanted them to choose someone themselves instead of imposing a fiancé on them.

Laura had married a Spanish Second Son Duke named Alejandro, who had moved to the Hale Mansion after their wedding. Andrew was engaged to the daughter of their neighbor, and Cole had decided to join the Church, finding his way in God.

Derek had only been fourteen when Katharine Argent entered his life. She was nineteen, beautiful, and crazy. At first, the young Derek had been smitten with her; following her like a puppy in the gardens whenever she was taking a walk, always one step behind her just like she had asked of him. He didn’t see anything wrong with that, to begin with, and tried to respect the rules about 'proper behavior' that he had learned about with his tutor.

But as the weeks went by, the teenager felt less and less at ease with Kate. He began to find her touch uncomfortable and her words too harsh. So when Gerard Argent offered an alliance between his daughter and Derek, Derek begged his mother to refuse.

Talia declined the offer, stating that Derek was too young. 

“Only by a few months,” Gerard had argued, and his pestering gave Talia reassurance that she had made the right decision.

The Argents left the next day, or at least that is what they had claimed. A week later, the Hale Mansion went up in flames, the Hale family trapped inside it. Only Derek, Cora, and Peter escaped the fire. Derek and Cora had been outside, the seven-year old girl having snuck out of her room, as she often did, to go play with the fireflies she was so passionate about. Derek, always the protective older brother, had come with her because he knew that when her mind was set on something, there was nothing he could do to change it. He thought it better to come with her to make sure that she was safe than leaving her alone. It ended up saving them both.  
Peter had been outside to take notes on the night flowers they had planted in the garden the previous month. He had tried to run back to the Mansion to help his family, but it was already too late. He only stayed alive because Derek held him back to prevent him from running toward the burning house to try to get to his wife and daughter.

-

A loud noise jolted him from his reverie, and Derek looked up, listening in. His new instincts were kicking in pretty quickly, and though he was still disoriented, he was thankful for them. He never would have heard the dogs if not for his new and enhanced senses.

He bolted, and ran into the river. He knew that it would throw the dogs off, because unlike Laura, he had actually _listened_ in class and when his father had taken them hunting - yes, all of them, including his sister, there had been no gender discrimination in the Hale family.

Derek ran for what felt like hours. When he finally got out of the river and was sure that he had gone far enough to throw off the dogs, he decided that he should probably try to find a safe place to spend the night and probably the rest of his life.

He had no idea where he was going or what he would do when he found a place to stay. If he ever did find a safe place to stay. He would have to hide, that much was obvious. But for how long? Would he ever be able to come home? Did he even _want_ to come home? What was left for him there? Nothing but a burnt house and a dead family. He had nothing left and nowhere to go.  
As if destiny hadn't been cruel enough the first time it took his family.

When Derek felt his legs giving up, he fell flat on the ground, dirt and leaves flying everywhere. He was too tired to keep going. He didn't even know where he was, not recognizing the woods he had been running through all night. He was sure he had never gone that far before; his parents always told him to be careful because in the woods live mysterious creatures, dangerous creatures, magical creatures. Derek never quite believed it. He always assumed it was because the woods were not completely theirs, the larger portion of it belonging to the King, whose castle was only two days away. But eh. Who's the werewolf now?

The moon was high in the sky, shining down on the forest, and Derek couldn’t help but look up to admire it. It was mesmerizing. Had it always been this beautiful or was he only drawn to it now because of his new condition?

He felt like howling, but knew that it would be dangerous, too dangerous for now. He was not quite certain that the guards and their dogs had abandoned their search party. Jennifer would have probably ordered them to hunt him for as long as it took to catch him. She had probably warned them not to come back without his head. She was crazy like that.  
She hadn’t always been crazy though... At least, Derek hadn’t thought so at first. Maybe he just missed the signs…

-

Derek had been living with his uncle and sister in their secondary home, Peter's own manor. It was smaller than the Hale Mansion which had been burnt to the ground, but then again, they were only three. They had been living there for seven years, when Jennifer had burst into their lives. Cora had just turned fourteen and Peter had organized a ball even though she didn't want one; she was more interested in getting her own falcon to go hunting with. Derek was twenty-one at the time, and had a scowl permanently etched onto his handsome face in an attempt to try and keep the eligible bachelorette away from him. He wasn't interested in finding the _love of his life_ after the whole Kate Argent episode. Neither Peter nor Cora could blame him for that.

The Hales -as well as the rest of the bachelorettes- had been surprised when Jennifer asked Peter to go on a walk with her; everyone had been expecting her to go up to Derek and ask that of him. Peter was the most surprised of them all. The fire had left its mark on his skin, burning a portion of his face. Besides, Peter was still wearing black, even seven years after the fire that took his wife and child away from him.

But Jennifer had been nice. Intelligent, smart, and funny- so different, yet so familiar. Something about her kept reminding him of his late wife, although they were in no way similar.  
It took them a little under a year of courting before they announced their engagement, and Jennifer moved in with the remaining Hales in Peter's manor.

Jennifer had settled into the manor like she'd always been living there. All of her things had found a place easily, even that huge mirror that she kept in her private study. They never thought anything of it. She was just nice, and Derek and Cora were happy to see their uncle smiling again.

They should have known something was off. Tragedy always seemed to follow the Hales.

Jennifer hadn't been as nice as she appeared. Her soul was as dark as the night, and while her skin was as pale as snow, she was tainted by evil and dark magic. Her study hadn't been filled with heroic books and tapestry or embroidery, but with cauldrons, witchcraft books, and strange plants. The mirror was hung upon the wall and every morning she would caress it, asking over and over again the same question:

"Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?"

And every day the mirror would answer, pleasing Jennifer.

"Thou art."

Until one day, when Cora was approaching her seventeenth birthday, it didn't.  
Neither Cora nor Derek knew it then, but that day had been the day their destiny would change forever, once again, for the mirror never lied.

"Magic Mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?" Jennifer had asked.

"Famed is thy beauty. But hold, a lovely maid I see. Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee."

Jennifer had been furious, yelling in her 'private study', asking the mirror to reveal the name of that _lovely maid_. 

“Cora Hale,” the mirror had answered.

Cora was poisoned three days later. She had been in the woods the whole day, hunting with her falcon, unlike most 16 year-old teenagers. Jennifer had greeted her with an apple as red as blood, and some water and five minutes later Cora was lying on the ground - dead. Her skin had been so pale.

Derek remembered rushing towards her when he noticed her body. He had screamed, cried, and called out her name, but she didn’t move a muscle.

In his state of shock, Derek had been unable to notice Jennifer until it was too late. Before he could even call for help, he had been covered in a green powder that made him sneeze once, then twice. The next thing he knew, he was on all fours, fur everywhere, and trying to call for help, but all he could do was bark.

Jennifer had laughed like the crazy witch that she was.

"Well, I had other plans for you, my dear, but this'll do. Don't worry, I'm not cruel, you'll change back eventually."

And she had laughed again, before taking a breath and screaming.

"HELP! HELP! He killed her, he killed her! Help!"

And then Derek had ran.

-

Somewhere far in the distance, Derek saw fire. Not the kind of fire that burnt his house down but the kind that indicated inhabitations. He thought it was probably the cabin of a hunter. Derek deemed it safer to avoid it, so he walked around it, taking another path. The dark forest was becoming lighter as fewer trees appeared in front of him. There were more fires now, lightning up small houses whose inhabitants were probably just waking up, getting ready for a day of hard labor.  
Derek was thinking about hiding, because wolves were not welcomed near civilization, everybody knew that. Maybe he ought to stay in the forest. Yeah. He should probably stay in the forest.

As he was turning to leave and hide in the darkness of the woods, he stopped dead in his tracks as a spasm took over his body. It hurt; he felt his skin shifting, his bones cracking, his muscles spasming. He whined, high in his throat, and then the animalistic whine turned into a human groan, and Derek found himself on the ground, human again. The same clothes he had been wearing earlier that day -or the previous one, considering the sun was rising- were on his back and a wolf pelt was hanging from his shoulder and his head.

His bones cracked one last time as he got up and his legs were weak, like a baby horse trying to get up for the first time. He sniffed the air, and the smell of freshly baked bread filled his nostrils. The sweet and divine smell was coming from the small house a few miles ahead.

Well, that meant that his enhanced senses still existed when he was human. He was unsure if that was good or bad news.

There was a small cabin not too far to his left, he could see it if he squinted. There was no smoke to indicate a fire and no light to indicate burning candles. As he got closer he realised that it smelled empty, old, dirty, and deserted. It seemed as though no one had lived in it for a long time. The roof was broken, the door was missing, and there was nothing inside.

It was perfect.

Derek entered carefully, trying not to hurt himself on the shattered glass that was all over the ground. He sat on the floor, where it was clean (or as clean as it could get) and looked around for a second. It's not like he had a choice anyway as there was no furniture for him to sit on.

He curled up on the floor and fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

King John Stilinski looked on with fondness as his only son, Sławomir or Stiles, burst into the audience room.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Master Finstock went on a rant about the pros and cons of going hunting with a dog instead of a hawk and he just didn't stop!"

King John waved his hand, gesturing for his son to approach. The castle was used to Finstock's exuberances and no one really thought about them anymore. The unspoken rule was that whenever the master of the guards would start talking, people had to find a way to leave discreetly or they would be stuck with him for hours.

"It's okay, son. Thank you for joining us."

The King turned his face towards the man in rags. He was one of the many farmers that had come to the castle in order to ask the King for help. It was a tradition instituted by King John’s great-great-great-great-grandfather that the Stilinski family had kept all these years.

"Please, continue."

The farmer bowed to Stiles when the young prince went to take his seat next to his father and resumed his plea.

"The bridge to the land of the McCall collapsed again last night my lord, which will be terrible for trade. With the winter coming, we'll lack food and supplies. We fear we won't be able to survive through all of it this year, if we don't manage to fix it soon. We're begging your majesty to allow us funds to hire craftsmen to repair it as soon as possible!"

Stiles turned toward his father, not letting the King say anything before speaking first.

"Oh, father, may I? I'm old enough to take care of such a matter, you know you can trust me with it! Deaton said I'm ready!"

The King kept quiet for a minute, thinking it over -though it was more for show than actual thinking, he knew his son was capable enough to take care of this business- before nodding once.

"I'll let my son, Prince Stiles, deal with this affair, if this seems agreeable with you."

The farmer nodded enthusiastically, more than happy to let the Prince take over the issue. Everyone in the kingdom and in the town of Beacon Hills, the capital city of Far Far Away, knew about the Prince. He was well beloved and people praised his brains and kindness. They couldn't be more happy with him, knowing that when the King would come to die, they would have a ruler just as fair for the decades to come.

The farmer gave his thanks, bowing lower than necessary, and left the audience room, just as another man was entering the room.

"Speak, friend, of your concern and your request shall be heard."

The man seemed to be in his late forties, the years in the sun marking his face with wrinkles and brown spots. He bowed once and kept his head facing the ground.

"My King, I've come to…"

Stiles' mind was already through the window, thinking of his plan of attack. Should he hire the craftsmen himself, or leave the task to the inhabitants of the town? How much money would a new bridge cost? He'd have to hire an architect to redesign the bridge, for it was the second time in less than two years that the bridge had collapsed, so there was clearly something wrong with the original plans. Which architect should he hire? The McCall family had a very nice church built only three years ago, and Stiles had been delighted by its appearance. Maybe he could ask that architect? Or were bridge and church construction way too different? His mind was going in a million different directions, so he didn't hear his father calling him the first two times.

"Stiles!"

"Yes, father?"

"You seem extremely focused on this new bridge. Perhaps you could go to Deaton to start working on it?"

Stiles pulled a face, ashamed to have been caught by his father. The farmer -a new one as the issue with the first had been resolved pretty quickly without Stiles even noticing- was smiling softly.

"Yes father, of course!"

He bowed to the King, smiled warmly at the farmer and left the room to go find his preceptor, Master Deaton. The man knew everything there was to know on Earth - Stiles liked to think that, anyway- he'd probably know about this architect issue!

-

An hour later, Stiles left the castle and headed toward town on his horse, Roscoe. Finstock had insisted that Stiles take an escort with him but the Prince had snuck out without one; he never felt like he needed one when he was going into town. He knew he was safe there. The citizens of Beacon Hills, and everywhere in Far Far Away, loved King John, and they loved Stiles too. When he was just a child, his mother, Queen Claudia, often took him with her whenever she was going to the farmers' market, and Stiles had grow up surrounded by these people. He knew most, if not all of them, and he had even been invited to the birthday party of the blacksmith's daughter. She was an adorable five year old with piercing blue eyes and a smile so bright that made it impossible for Stiles to refuse. He'd eaten cake and brought her the biggest present he could think of.

People were used to seeing him. He always had a kind word for his subjects or sweets and toys for the children. They often thought of him as one of their own and not as the Prince and future King. Though all of them had noticed that his visits were more and more frequent these last couple of months. Some old ladies whispered that it was coinciding with the arrival of the mysterious Wolfskin, the stranger living in the small cabin on the outskirts of the forest but that was only gossip.  
Old ladies were observant though, and they weren't far from the truth.

Stiles came to a halt near the inn, where he tied Roscoe up, leaving him next to the trough and left to tend to his business. He had to examine the collapsed bridge, help people clear out the debris, talk to some of the merchants to ask for their input on the new bridge…

It was already late afternoon when Stiles found himself in front of Derek's cabin, knocking. The door opened immediately as if Derek had heard him coming. He often did that and it annoyed Stiles because he was sure that he would never be able to sneak up on the older man.

"Hello, Sourwolf! May I come in?"

Derek, the tall, dark, brooding stranger that had appeared in town a little over four months ago grunted in lieu of agreement and let Stiles enter the cabin. It was as clean as the last time he'd been there, warm because of the oven and smelled like freshly baked bread.

"I heard that you recently went on a baking frenzy and that you distributed your spare bread around town…How convenient!" The Prince teased.

"Well I heard you became allergic to peaches and managed to give them all away to the innkeeper’s son and his friends. _How convenient_!" Derek shot back with a smirk.

They looked at each other for a while, and Stiles felt his heart flutter. The wide grin on his face refused to go away, and he plopped down onto the chair next to the table without any invitation, waving his hand around.

"I don't suppose you have some water around for a poor and thirsty Prince?"

Derek, his smile hidden behind the wolf pelt, threw a cup to Stiles.

"You know where the pitcher is, do it yourself!"

Even though Stiles had basically been raised among the subjects of Beacon Hills, and they often thought of him as one of their own children, none dared talking to him as freely as Derek did. The first time it had happened, Derek had looked mortified, apologizing for such familiarity but Stiles had just laughed and waved him off, happy to have found someone who understood his wit and was able to give him a run for his money. After weeks of trying to convince the baker that it was okay to talk back to him, they had fallen into this easy battle of wits, forging what Stiles liked to think of as a true friendship.

Truthfully, what Stiles felt for _Wolfskin_ was more than innocent friendly feelings, and the man often appeared in the Prince's dreams but that was another story. One he'd never tell.

"So, what amazing cakes did you bake this time? Can I try some? Did you do anything with lemons? I love lemons! Did I ever tell you that?"

Derek rolled his eyes.

"Yes, Stiles, about a thousand times. And what makes you think I baked anything for you?"

Stiles let out an unhappy whine.

"But you always bake something for me! That's the reason why I come into town so often, and the reason why I’ve put on five pounds since you established yourself in town! You’re my sweets dealer, Sourwolf!"

"Well, you were only skin and bone, the five pounds look good on you! And didn’t I tell you to stop calling me that?"

"Aw, Sourwolf!” said Stiles, ignoring the remark completely. “ Are you telling me you find me attractive?" He asked with an exaggerated wink.

He could have sworn that Derek was blushing but with the wolf pelt on top of his head, it was difficult to be sure. He'd asked Derek once why he never took it off and the man had closed up in a heartbeat, refusing to talk to Stiles anymore. The Prince had been heartbroken, sure he'd ruined whatever there was between the stranger and him but a week later, Derek was waiting for him in front of the cabin with lemon cakes that would have made an angel cry, and all was forgotten.

Stiles never asked the question again, though he never truly forgot about the strangeness of Derek. _I'm in love with a nut job_ , he often thought.

Outside of the cabin, the sun was low on the West, and Stiles got up abruptly.

"I need to go!"

Derek nodded, used to Stiles’ outbursts whenever the night was about to fall.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" the Prince asked with a small, yet hopeful voice, and Derek nodded again.

Stiles left the cabin with a grin on his face, hurrying towards the inn to grab Roscoe and reach the castle before the sun was setting on the ocean. He had to be back before twilight. That was the rule.

-

King John was waiting for Stiles by the gates when the Prince finally reached the castle.

"You are late son."

"I"m sorry, father. I lost track of time."

The King smiled sadly at his son, helping him riding down his horse.

"The only thing that matters is that you're back on time," he paused for a moment, then added "For what it's worth, I'm sorry for everything that-"

"Father! Stop" said Stiles, cutting his father off. "It's not your fault. Never has been, never will be. This is how things are, and I've come to accept it. Besides, me not running around at night is safer for everyone, isn't it?"

He tried to stay hopeful and joyful, smiling at his father like it wasn't a big deal but the King could see through his son's brave face. But he said nothing and ruffled his son's hair before leaving the horse to his squire.

"Come on. We won't have time to have dinner together but there's a tray in your room waiting for you."

Stiles climbed the stairs leading to his room in silence, following his father. It was the same ritual every night, had been for as long as the Prince could remember. The only difference now was that his mother wasn't here anymore to kiss him on the cheek and check under the bed for monsters. Now, when he reached the door, his father would pull him in a tight hug, close the door behind him and lock the door from the outside.

Lost in his thoughts, Stiles barely registered the hug that his father gave him and it was the sound of the door clicking shut behind him that jolted him from his reverie.

"Goodnight, son," the King called through the door.

Stiles opened his mouth to answer but at the same moment, the sun finally set on the ocean and a bright light filled the room, blinding Stiles. When the darkness returned, a small fox was standing in the middle of a pile of clothes. The fox yipped as the King stepped away from the door.

Goodnight father, thought the fox.

-

King John was sitting by the fire in his room, a glass of whisky in his hand. He'd been drinking more and more for the past two months, finding it increasingly difficult to lock his son in his room every night.

It wasn't that Stiles was dangerous, to himself or anyone else, but it had been a measure they had decided on with Claudia when Stiles was only a baby, after a maid had walked into the room at night and found a kit in the Prince’s cradle. Locking the door had been a precaution at the time but it felt more and more like imprisonment nowadays. It was probably because Stiles was finally approaching his 18th birthday. The cutoff point.

  
  


King John took a sip of his whisky and rubbed at his eyes, wishing his wife was still here. She would know what to do. She would find a way. She had always been the smart one, and he felt so lost without her. Her portrait by the fireplace was looking over him and he sighed, mind wandering back to what was supposed to be the happiest day of his life.

King John had married Claudia out of love. She'd been a beautiful and smart woman, the only daughter of a Duke of small fortune. They'd been happy together, with the exception of a shadow always hovering above them: the lack of a child. Despite years and years of trying, Queen Claudia had been failing to bear a child. They had asked doctors, they had asked their gods, they had asked fairies. They had even considered asking a witch but the prices were always too high to pay, they knew that. Neither of them wanted to trade a life for a life. They had almost given up hope to ever hold their child in their arms, when one morning the Queen had woken throwing up. And the morning after that, and the morning after that. They had fear for her life until the day she felt something, _someone_ , moving inside of her.

Stiles' birth had been a national day of celebrations and festivities, for everyone in the kingdom was glad that the King finally had an heir. The neighboring Dukes, Barons, and Earls had come to the castle to celebrate the birth of their future king with the Hale and the McCall families among them. 

Everything had gone smoothly. The guests had brought more gifts than they knew what to do with and the cooks had outdone themselves; everything had been perfect.

At least, until Magdalene Argent had burst into the empty ball room, long after the guests had left, screaming about how insulting it was to have not been invited to the festivities.

John remembered Claudia cradling Stiles to her chest, protecting him from the screams of the furious woman. He remembered the evil cackle of her laugh, as she was dragged from the room by Finstock, a newly appointed guard. The sound of her voice never left his mind, not really.

"You're no better than animals, all of you! And your child shall be the one to suffer because of it! To remind you everyday that you are no better than beasts, let your sweet child turn into a fox, to reveal your true nature! Ah!" A spray of green light shot from her hands, sending Finstock flying. "No salvation for the kit, doomed to die on his tenth birthday like all pets! Cursed to be alone, stuck in this beast skin."

Her evil laugh had echoed through the room. She left Claudia in tears, clutching a small fox in her arms and a stunned Finstock looking around frantically for the woman who had vanished in another bright green flash.

The King took another sip of whisky, his hands shaking.

-

In his room, Stiles was sitting on his bed, head between his paws. He was used to it by now, the transformation didn’t even hurt anymore. He was used to being locked up, not because he was dangerous, he knew that, his father told him over and over again. He was used to spending his nights alone in his room, waiting for the sunrise, to change back into his human form.  
Well… alone. That was a big word.

There was a knock on the window and, a second later, three small and beautiful creatures appeared in his room, which immediately began to smell of camelia.

That, he was also used to. His fairy godmothers, Lydia, Allison and Erica,: liked to make an entrance -especially Lydia and Erica-. They may have been small but their ego, wits and good looks were absolutely enormous.

"So, I heard you went to see Wolfskin again!" Erica said, sitting on his bed, blond curls bouncing on her shoulders. "When will you finally tell him that you're completely in love with him? It's frustrating, you have no idea!"

"As if Stiles would ever have the nerve to tell Derek that he is in love with him," retorted Lydia, tossing her strawberry blond hair behind her shoulder. "It's pathetic, really Stiles. I mean, you're a prince! And he's just a peasant baking bread in a cabin while wearing a wolf pelt!"

"I think he's very nice," said Allison, always the sweet one. Stiles loved Allison. She was one of the kindest creature he knew and she had dimples that made her face look adorable.

"Ugh. I never thought I'd say that but it's truly annoying that you can't talk in your fox form. We probably should have thought about that when we tried to change the curse!" Erica said.

Despite their youthful faces, the three fairies had been present for Stiles' birth. They were the ones who had found the King and the Queen crying over a small kit, the guard looking around the empty room as if possessed.

Stiles didn't remember this specific part of his life as he had been only two days old at the time but the fairies and the King had never been able to forget it.

The three fairies had approached the King with their heads bowed, looking as threatening as three small kittens. The King had stepped in front of his child protectively, now thinking that anything remotely magical was evil, but then Lydia spoke up and he listened.

"We can help you, my King. Our powers may not be the greatest," she looked pained to admit that. "But we can help ease the burden of the curse. We originally came here to offer your son gifts of grace, strength, and beauty but, given the circumstances, this seems more… useful.”"

The King had nodded eagerly.

"Anything. Please, anything. Save my son, that is all I ask of you."

And they had tried. They hadn't been powerful enough but they did the best they could.

"My sweet Prince, though I cannot prevent you from transforming into a fox, you will remain human from sunrise to sunset. You will only become this witty animal at twilight."

Thus was the gift offered by Lydia.

"My beautiful Prince, though I cannot stop the clock from ticking, you will not die on your tenth birthday. On your eighteenth birthday, you will fall into an eternal sleep and be frozen in time." 

Thus was the gift Erica offered.

"My wonderful Prince. My gift may be small, but you shall never undermine the power of human love. A kiss from your One True Love will cure you of the curse. It will awaken you from this eternal sleep, should he be too late. We will help him find you.."

Thus was the gift Allison offered. The three fairies stood side by side, raising their magic wands.

"By night one way, by day another, until your eighteenth birthday, where eternal sleep awaits. This shall be the norm until you find true love's first kiss. Then take love's true form. "

-

The King finished his drink and got up to pour himself another. His son's eighteenth birthday was approaching and there was still no sign of Stiles’ One True Love. There was no light at the end of the tunnel, and the King knew he would soon lose his only son, his only family, to the eternal sleep of the damn curse.

The glass shattered when it hit the floor and the King let out a single sob.

He'd never find the strength to tell his son everything. Explaining to him why he couldn't see other people after the sun had set had been hard enough, having to explain that he was different, that no other little boy would turn into a fox at night. Explaining to him that it had to remain a secret, that only one maid and the Captain of the Guard, Finstock, knew about. That he couldn't tell Scott, his best-friend in the whole world (he did it anyway, and King John had to make Baroness Melissa McCall swear on her life and on her son's life never to reveal the secret).

He had never told him about the second part of the curse. About the eternal sleep, about the deadline of his eighteenth birthday. Maybe if he had… maybe Stiles would have been more eager to meet people, to attend parties and balls. Maybe he would have looked for someone, instead of laughing it off, telling his dad that he was “ _too young for that, dad, I have all the time in the world._ ”  
Because his son didn't have all the time in the world, he only had a few weeks.  
Maybe if he had…Maybe… 

The King fell asleep, full of regrets with the shattered glass at his feet while Stiles was sleeping soundly in his room, waiting for the first ray of sun to turn him into a man again.

-

The next day, as Stiles was leaving the castle to head to town on Roscoe's back, the King took a quill and a piece of parchment and sat at his desk to write a letter to Baroness Melissa McCall, asking her to come quickly with her son.

It took two days, two days of worry for the King, before Melissa and Scott were finally announced in the castle. Stiles, who had not been informed of this visit from his best friend, was ecstatic, and took the young man on a ride through the forest, telling him all about the bridge construction and the town and Derek. Especially Derek.

In the meantime, King John and Melissa were meeting in the study.

"How are you holding up John? Stiles seems happy…"

It had been a long time since Melissa had stopped calling John "My King".

"Yes… He's… he's not aware. Not yet. He…I never managed to find the strength to tell him. He was always so joyful, and accepting of his condition that I… I never found the courage to tell him about the rest."

King John grabbed his glass of whisky and took a long sip. Melissa put her hand on his arm, squeezing slightly.

"You have to tell him John. With his birthday coming up so soon…He has to know. You cannot keep it from him."

The King nodded, knowing all too well that she was right. It wasn't fair: not to Stiles, not to anyone.

"I…There's still no one. No One True Love. There's… there's just no one. He kept telling me…He kept telling me he'd have time. That he just wanted to enjoy his youth. And now… Now I might lose him forever too!"

It wasn't often that the King cried. He was always strong, fierce, fair and kind, never sad. But today was too hard for him to pretend to be strong, not in front of his most trusted friend.

"John… If there was anything I could do…"

At that, the King wiped his tears and turned his face toward her.

"There might be…I've been giving it a lot of thought lately and… do you remember when Stiles and Scott where little? How it was impossible to separate them, how they would cry and cry for days whenever they were separated?"

Melissa nodded, smiling softly. Her son had taken an immediate liking to the Prince and vice-versa. They would always claim to be brothers, arguing that the link between them was stronger than just the one of friends.

"Of course I remember, John."

"What if… Maybe Scott could be…" The King seemed lost in his thoughts for a moment. "Stiles always used to say that Scott was his soulmate. What if he really is?"

Melissa stared at the King as she thought it over.

"I don't know, John. Scott has never shown any interest in men."

"I know, Melissa, but what if…"

Melissa saw the desperation in the King's eyes and she understood it. She loved Stiles like her own son and knowing what terrible fate was awaiting him was breaking her heart.

"You don't really believe it, do you?"

The King sighed, defeated.

"I need something to hold onto."

Melissa patted the King's arm with a sad smile on her face and tears in her eyes. They could only hope for a miracle.

-

Stiles and Scott came back late in the afternoon, smiling so widely that they would probably end up stuck like that. Since dinner would not be served for another half hour, the King took his son aside.

"What's up daddy-o?"

Stiles was always so happy whenever Scott was around that it only comforted the King in his decision: it had to be the right one.

"Stiles there is something we need to talk about. I need you to listen to me very carefully without interrupting me. Do you think you can do that?"

Stiles nodded, his smile wiped off his face in a second, brows furrowed and eyes wide.

"There is something I never told you about the curse." Stiles said nothing but something flickered in his eyes. "There was… There was a second part to it. Your mother and I thought you were too young to know about it and then when she died it was too hard. I never found the strength to tell you about it."

"Dad, you're freaking me out."

"When Magdalene Argent, may she rot in hell, burst into the ballroom, she didn't stop at changing you into a fox. She said- Oh, son." The King's hands were shaking. Stiles had never seen his father like this. "The fairies did everything they could to soften the curse but…"

"Dad, _tell me_."

"You've known the curse the way we told you: “By night one way, by day another. This shall be the norm until you find true love's first kiss. Then take love's true form."

Stiles nodded. He'd heard it a thousand times. He'd hoped and prayed for his One True Love just like every princess in the story books has. He hadn't been looking for them intensively, believing they would meet when fate would decide it was time.

"The missing part was…" The King took a shaky breath. " By night one way, by day another until your eighteenth birthday," The King let out a sob. "Where eternal sleep awaits… This shall be the norm until you find true love's first kiss. Then take love's true form."

Stiles stayed silent for a while, looking at his father with wide eyes.

"What exactly are you saying dad?" His voice was broken, barely a whisper, and it made King John's heart ache. 

"I thought Magdalene was crazy. She screamed at us that we were nothing but animals and that our child would suffer because of it. To remind us of it everyday you'd turn into a fox and be doomed to die on your tenth birthday. That you'd be alone and I… She was laughing and then there was this bright green flash and then your mother was holding a baby fox in her arms. She disappeared after that and no one ever saw her again."

King John had turned the forest upside down, had searched every house in the country. Gerard Argent's domain had been thoroughly inspected for months but the woman had disappeared. The King had wanted to take it out on Gerard, on his children but Claudia had put her hand on his shoulder, shaking her head. Gerard, Katharine and Christopher were not responsible for Magdalene's machinations. Or so they thought.

"But… But I thought Lydia and Erica and Allison had changed the curse?"

"That's all they were able to do. You'd be a fox at night and they gave you eight more years to find your One True Love…until…until…"

"Until I die."

"No! No, you don't die! You won't die! You can find your True Love. They can find you! The fairies, they said they'd help them find you. You're not going to die, Stiles!"

Stiles stayedt silent for a long time, lost in his thoughts. Everything around him seemed dull. He was used to living as a fox at night. He could have even grown to like it, had his father not locked him up every night in his room. He could have hunted in the forest at night and ran freely under the moonlight. Being a fox was not a bother. But this changed everything. His eighteenth birthday. How long did he have? A week? Two? He couldn't think straight, his mind was clouded. He felt as though he couldn't breathe, like someone was sitting on his chest, a hand around his throat cutting off the air.  
He barely managed to understand the words his father was screaming (at least, it looked like his father was screaming, he couldn't hear clearly, like he was underwater). Dark spots were dancing before his eyes and he felt his knees giving up.

-

When Stiles woke up he was in his room, on his bed, already in his fox form. For once, his father was sitting on the bed beside him, running his hand through the soft fur on Stiles' back. Stiles yipped once, to alert his father that he was awake and the relief the king felt was clear on his face.

"You scared me, son."

Stiles nipped at his father fingers, as if to tell him that he was okay.

"You had a panic attack. You haven't had them since you were a child."

Stiles knew what his father meant by that. The first panic attack he had was the day after his mother's funeral, when he understood that she wouldn't be there to check under his bed for monsters anymore.

"You passed out and then the sun set and you changed into a fox."

His father's fingers were still stroking his fur.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I know I should have but I wasn't ready. I'm still not ready. I thought I was protecting you by keeping the truth from you, but I ruined everything, didn't I?"

Stiles nipped at his father's fingers again, letting out a pained whine.

"I know I did. If I had told you sooner maybe you would've looked for them. Maybe you'd have found them by now."

Stiles' pink tongue darted out of his mouth, licking softly at his father's hand.

"You've never talked about anyone. Not really. Did you… are you sure there's no one. Stiles? Maybe you've already met them but you didn't realize it. Maybe… Maybe it’s Scott."

Stiles laughed at that,well, as much as he could in his fox form, and his father’s face fell. The King's voice sounded desperate and Stiles snuggled closer to his father. His mind was wandering back to Derek.

Maybe he had found his One True Love. But weren't those supposed to be mutual? Because as much as Stiles was deeply in love with Wolfskin, he doubted that the older man felt anything for him. It had taken so long for Derek to stop being broody around Stiles that the Prince often thought that he was only friendly out of obligation but Stiles was selfish and if it meant being close to Derek, he could take the fake friendship. Derek wasn't his One True Love. He would not give him his True Love's First Kiss. He wouldn't be able to break the curse because Derek didn't like him like that.

So, Stiles shook his head and he felt his father’s grip tighten on his fur. He whined softly, sharing his father's pain and hid his head between his paws.

-

Stiles was out of the castle as soon as morning came, riding Roscoe into town faster than he'd ever had before. He knocked on Derek's door three times before the man opened it, which was a first but Stiles didn't stop to gloat about surprising his Sourwolf.

"Stiles, it's really early… What are you doing here?"

"Well, I came for breakfast!" And with that he dropped into a chair. "I thought, since it was my birthday soon, I might as well come here and tell you what kind of cake I want. And then I thought some more and I decided that I wanted to spend time with you this week! You know, eighteen is a pretty big step, I'll stop being a child and all, so I might as well make the most of the rest of my freedom!"

"You'll never stop being a child," Derek grunted but he didn't object to Stiles tagging along, so the Prince just smiled and helped set the small table for breakfast which consisted o fa couple of slices of bread and some of the delicious jam from Mrs Morrell, the healer of the town.

The domesticity of the situation made Stiles' heart ache, and Derek looked at him with raised eyebrows when he rubbed at his chest. But Stiles just smiled and resumed eating, and Derek didn't say anything.

They went for a walk in the forest after breakfast, picking up whatever berries were left at the approach of winter. They ate bread and cheese by the river with their feet in the water, though it was probably too cold already to act like summer was still there. Derek laughed for a long time when Stiles fell in the river because the Prince wouldn't stop throwing grass at him. Stiles thought it was the best sound he'd ever heard and would have gladly jumped into the river to keep hearing it.

The day ended when Stiles had to return to the castle before sunset and Derek looked at him like he wanted to ask him to stay.

"May I come tomorrow?" asked Stiles and when Derek nodded he smiled, a small, tentative smile at him before riding away on Roscoe.

-

"Hypothetically…” Derek asked, three days later. “What kind of cake would you like for your birthday?"

"A love cake," mumbled Stiles without thinking.

Derek stopped dead in his tracks, turning his head toward Stiles, looking at him with wide eyes.

"What?" His voice sounded strangled.

"A cake I'll love!" Stiles corrected, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks.

Derek nodded, sharply. If Stiles hadn't been looking everywhere but at him, he would have seen the red on Derek's cheeks, too.

-

"So... My birthday's tomorrow."

"I know, Stiles," Derek said while rolling his eyes. "You've told me countless times."

"What kind of cake are you planning on baking?"

"Who said I'm going to bake you anything?" Derek retorted.

"Don't be mean, Sourwolf! It's my birthday, you have to be nice to me!"

Derek tried to hide his smile but he wasn't exactly successful.

"It's not your birthday yet. I can be mean if it pleases me!"

Stiles laughed, and Derek thought it was the best sound in the world. He didn't know why Stiles had decided to come every single day to spend his time annoying him -or so he was telling the Prince: truth be told, he loved it- but he was glad. Stiles was the best thing that had happen to him in a long, long time.

"I have to go…"

Stiles seemed more sad than usual at the idea of leaving. Derek thought about asking him to stay -he had been thinking about it a lot lately- but he bit his tongue. It wasn't his place to ask that of Stiles. Stiles was the Prince of Far Far Away and Derek was nothing. Not anymore.

Stiles was already on Roscoe when Derek grabbed his wrist, stopping him for a second.

"Lemon."

Stiles smiled, his big bright eyes watering, which confused Derek.

"Of course."

Stiles brushed his fingers against the back of Derek's hand, sadness pouring out of him in waves. Derek couldn't understand why.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he said, tightening his grasp on the Prince's wrist for a second.

Stiles smiled and nodded nodded. He raised his hand, as if about to touch Derek's cheek, but let it fall back down.

"Goodbye, Derek."

The reins flapped and Derek just had time to withdraw his hand before Stiles was disappearing, leaving him with the strange feeling that something wasn't quite right.

-

The sun was still high enough in the sky when Stiles reached the doors of the castle. He brought Roscoe to his stable, spending some time with his horse, petting his head and brushing his coat. He was murmuring soft nothings in Roscoe's hear when Scott appeared by the door of the stable.

"Hey, bro," Scott's voice was soft- softer than it usually was, and Stiles wanted to scream, and kick, and yell.

"Please, Scott. Not now."

"Well, I haven't really had the time to truly talk to you, have I?"

"I told you, I was busy in town. The construction of the bridge needs to be completed before winter comes, so that trade still works with your land."

Scott bit his lip. He knew Stiles like the back of his hand. He was his brother, for God's sake.

"Stiles… If there's someone in town… Anyone… You _have_ to tell us!" he pleaded.

Stiles let the brush fall on the floor, giving a kiss to Roscoe and getting out of the stables.

"There's no one, Scott. Let's not waste our last night, okay?"

Scott studied Stiles' face before nodding, defeated.

"I'm sure the cook made that soup that you love, come on. We'll be late."

Stiles dragged his best friend out of the stable, saying goodbye to Roscoe one last time in his head. He felt a single tear slide down his cheek and wiped it away before Scott could notice. He would not cry tonight.

-

Dinner had been awkward despite Stiles' best efforts at engaging conversation. His dad was drinking more than usual, and Melissa kept looking at him with so much sadness in her eyes that he thought he would end up crying at some point.

After dinner, his father had left the table to go to his study, locking the door behind him, and Stiles had almost broken his promise not to cry. He wanted to hug his father one last time before turning into a fox, and before dying - _not dying, Stiles_ , he thought, hearing his father's voice in his head-. But he could understand why the King didn't want that. Kings couldn't be emotional. Stiles just wished his father could stop being a King, even just for five minutes.

He was sitting by the fire in his room when he heard a knock on the door. A moment later Melissa entered the room. She walked towards him and gathered her Prince in her arms, putting a hand in his hair and crying silently. Stiles returned the hug with all he had and smiled at her when she kissed him on the forehead.

"I'll miss you, Mama McCall."

A sob escaped her throat and she fell on the armchair, covering her mouth to hold back the rest of her sobs.

"Don't worry. It'll be okay."

Scott was the next one to enter the room, punching Stiles lightly on the shoulder before wrapping him up in a bear hug, clinging to him with all his strength.

"We'll find them. I swear to you, Stiles. Even if we have to line up the whole kingdom and have every single one of them kiss you. I swear to god we'll find them."

Stiles smiled at that. Of course Scott would be the optimistic one. He always had been and Stiles hoped he always would be.

"Well that's reassuring, Scotty!"

They laughed, softly but stopped when King John entered the room. He looked as though he'd put his head in cold water a couple of times, damp hair pushed back. He didn't say a word, just crossed the room and grabbed his son by the shoulders before crushing him against his chest. He smelled faintly of whisky, the smell mostly washed off by the water. Stiles appreciated the effort.

"I love you, son."

Stiles choked back a sob.

"I love you and we'll find a solution. We'll find that fucking witch," and oh, cursing! "or we'll find your soulmate. One way or another, we're going to save you, son. Even if I have to burn this kingdom down."

"No need to be this violent, daddy-o" Stiles said in a strangled voice, trying to laugh it off.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. Nothing."

There was a knock on the window and Lydia, Erica, and Allison entered the room. Lydia looked beyond pissed, Erica looked murderous, and Allison just looked sad.

"You didn't think we'd leave you here alone, did you?" asked Lydia in a sharp and annoyed voice.

"Of course not! What would I become without my three fairy godmothers?"

"Well if we were more powerful we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place!" Erica growled.

"Erica." Surprisingly, it was King John who had interrupted them. "It's not your fault. You did everything you could."

Erica kicked at Stiles' hairbrush and sat on the edge of his desk, sulking.

"We'll find him Stiles. I promised you eighteen years ago that we would, and I reiterate that promise. We will find him." Allison said, and she beamed at Scott when he nodded vigorously.

But before Stiles could open his mouth to say that he believed them, or that they shouldn't bother, or that he was grateful that they all were here with him, the sun touched the ocean and a bright light flashed in the room, blinding everyone.

When they opened their eyes again, Stiles was a fox on the ground, eyes closed and low heartbeat. He was already asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek woke up extra-early the next day, changing into a wolf to go bathe in the river before coming back to his cabin and slipping back into his human form. For once, he took the wolf pelt off his shoulders and put on nicer clothes than he usually wore. It was Stiles' birthday after all, and he wanted to look good. Or at least better than he usually did.

He'd never taken the wolf pelt off of his shoulders with the Prince before because it seemed like a wall between them, a protection from Stiles. Not that Stiles would have ever wanted to hurt Derek. Not intentionally anyway.

The pelt had been to put some distance between them, especially when Derek had started to feel. Hiding his face behind the pelt whenever he was smiling at something Stiles had done or blushing at something he'd said.

Derek had made his peace with the fact that nothing could ever happen with Stiles. Stiles was the Prince of Far Far Away and Derek was nothing, not anymore. In another life, they could have had their happily ever after but in this life, Derek didn't have a family, a house, or honor anymore. Everything had been taken from him by Kate, Gerard, and Jennifer, leaving nothing but ashes in their path.

The knowledge didn't stop Derek from feeling whatever it was he was feeling - _love. ours. mate. ours_. supplied his wolf- which lead to the clean pants and the clean shirt and the fact that he had trimmed his beard. He was supposed to bake a cake for Stiles' birthday and it was going to be an amazing cake.

The werewolf opened his cookbook, scratching his beard as he read the different names of the cakes.

"Le savarin aux pommes, le chenonceau au rhum, le délice à la noix, la galette des Rois… Mmm, no. La tarte aux abricots, le soufflé aux pruneaux, le beignet de compote, le biscuit de charlotte… Non."

He read the next name on the list and…

"Oh."

He smiled softly.

" _Le cake d'amour_."

Stiles _did_ ask for a love cake, didn't he? Derek turned the pages of the cookbook until he reached the recipe. It was in French, like the rest of the book but the years of lessons with his tutor had stuck with him. It was easy to translate them into English.

"Prepare your dough in a flat bowl but before you start light your oven."

Derek set fire to the pile of twigs under the oven to heat it before grabbing a large and flat bowl.

"Now take some flour, pour it in the bowl. Four full handfuls, make a little hole in it."

Derek grabbed the flour, paying attention not to cover his sleeves with it.

"Choose four fresh eggs, laid the very morning, for days later a chick is bound to appear."

Derek chuckled at that and grabbed four eggs in a bowl next to the window. No chick in it, thankfully.

"A whole bowl of milk, nice and creamy, if you please. Sprinkle with sugar and mix well."

Derek used a wooden spoon to mix the dough, trying not to put anything on the cookbook. Or his pants.

"A handful of sweet butter."

He'd have to get some more soon, especially if Stiles kept coming into his cabin for more cakes.

"A pinch of baking powder, a drop of honey, and a dash of salt. And now it is time, while kneading the dough, to sli-"

Derek choked on the word, his face turning a bright red.

"To slip in a present for your betrothed." He croaked. 

He considered skipping this part but the wolf whined in the back of his throat and, a second later, Derek was dropping his signet ring in the dough. The dark triskelion disappeared in the dough as he kneaded it some more. He added some lemon zest, even though it wasn't in the recipe because Stiles loved lemon.

"Make a wish while the dough is resting."

He smiled sadly. What use was there?

"Butter the dish and bake for one hour."

Derek put the cake in the oven, expecting it to be ready by the time Stiles arrived.

But an hour later, as the cake was filling the cabin with its smell, there was still no sign of Stiles. 

Guessing that the Prince had probably slept in, Derek put the cake by the window, and cleaned his cabin. By the time the cake had cooled there was still no sign of Stiles. Derek tried not to read into it too much. Stiles probably had better things to do on his birthday than meet with Derek. There was probably a huge ball to prepare for, dozens of Dukes and Counts and Barons and their daughters coming to celebrate the Prince's birthday. There was no place nor time for Derek there.

By the time the cake had gone dry, Derek had put his wolf pelt back on his shoulder, throat closed up and stomach sinking. The pelt hadn't worked in the end, it hadn't protected him from Stiles and his smile, his wits, and his kindness. It hadn't protected him from falling in love with the Prince, and it wasn't protecting his heart from hurting.

He considered feeding the cake to his neighbor's pigs, but couldn't bring himself to do it. It was Stiles' birthday cake. The day wasn't over yet, the night had just fallen on the town, maybe Stiles would come in the evening, escaping his party if only for a couple of minutes, to get his cake.

But Stiles didn't come, and the cake stayed by the window as a black wolf howled his pain under the moon.

-

The next day, Derek woke up curled up on himself, his tail between his paw and, when he blinked, a small redhead woman was standing in front of him.

"It's about time you woke up! I've been calling you for five minutes! I was just about ready to drop a bucket of frozen water on you!"

Derek growled at the small creature -a fairy, his mind supplied- and snapped his teeth just inches away from her face. She didn't even blink.

"Yeah right, like you scare me big guy. Do I need to transform you back myself or are you going to turn human anytime soon?"

Derek growled again, more threatening this time. Who _was_ she? How did she know what he was?

"Did you not hear me? I'm not scared of you. And you're wasting my time! Do I look like I want to _be_ here?"

He looked at her, truly, for the first time and noticed that the ribbon in her hair and the small dress that was perfectly made. She even had tiny shoes and a tiny purse. She looked like a tiny human.

"Oh for the Goddess' sake! Change back! I need your help! Stiles needs your help!"

And that did the trick. Where the wolf had standing the previous second, a man was now kneeling, panting softly.

"Well, I can see what Stiles sees in you," the fairy drawled suggestively.

Derek, despite wearing clothes and the wolf pelt, suddenly felt very naked. He covered himself more with the wolf pelt, sliding it on top of his head so it would fall over his face.

"Start talking." He grunted.

The redheaded fairy rolled her eyes and looked at her nails.

"Stiles fell into an eternal sleep last night," she said, as if she was talking about the weather or snails’ reproductive system, or anything else that couldn't be more boring.

Derek felt his heart sink in his chest and if he hadn't already been kneeling on the ground, he probably would have fallen on his ass.

"What?" He croaked.

"Stiles. Eternal sleep. On his eighteenth birthday. Jeez', it's like you've never heard of a curse! You're a werewolf for the Goddess' sake, you should know about stuff like that!"

She rolled her eyes, and Derek couldn't help but gape at her. Was it some kind of joke? How could she be this laid back? And who was she? Was she… Was she the one…  
A second later, Derek has grabbed her in his hand, closing his fist around her.

"Who are you? What did you do to him?!" He grunted through clenched teeth.

"Oh my goddess, let me go you filthy beast! I didn't do anything! I'm not the evil one here! Let me go, let me go!" She demanded.

Derek could hear her heartbeat and it was steady; she was telling the truth. Probably. He lessened his grip on her, not letting her go completely.

"Who. are. you?"

“I’m Lydia! One of his fairy godmothers.”

“... Keep talking.”

"Fine, you huge caveman! Stiles was cursed by Magdalene Argent when he was a baby.”

Derek growled at the name. _Argents_!

“Erica, Allison and myself managed to soften the curse, like preventing him from _dying on his tenth birthday_ but we weren't strong enough to lift it."

It looked like it pained her to admit it.

"So, Stiles is stuck in an eternal sleep until his One True love gives him his True Love's First Kiss. Aka you."

Derek blinked at her. What?

"I'm not his One True Love."

"Of course you are!"

"No I'm- I'm not. Stiles is… Stiles is the Prince," Derek stuttered.

"And you're a Duke."

Derek's blood turned ice cold in his veins. His grip tightened on the fairy.

"What did you say?" he growled.

"No need to try and crush me, you dumb creature! I know who you are. You're Derek Hale. You're the last heir of the Hale Duchy. You've were accused of killing your sister Cora several month ago and you disappeared. Just before Wolfskin appeared in Beacon Hills. You could have at least changed your name if you wanted to stay anonymous."

Derek considered killing her. He would be safe if she was dead, she couldn't talk to anyone about it. On the other hand… She knew what had happened to Stiles.

"What makes you think I'm his One True Love? We're not even that close!"

"Didn't he spend the last ten days or so entirely with you?"

"Yes…"

"That's when he learned about the curse. That's when he learned that he only had ten days to find his True Love before falling into this bloody eternal sleep."

"If I was his True Love, surely he would have done something during those ten days."

"No he wouldn't have because just as you think that Stiles doesn't love you the way you love him, he thinks you don't love him the way that he loves you."

Derek was so shocked by the information that he accidentally let go of the fairy..

"You're a pair of morons, it's pathetic but we don't have time for doubts and self-sacrificing dumbass’s. Stiles is asleep in his room and everybody is crying in the castle, so you better hurry your ass to wake him up or I swear I'll make a coat out of your pelt. I've always dreamed of a fur coat."

And Derek, changing into his wolf form, burst out of the door, and ran to the castle.

-

Derek was panting heavily when he reached the doors of the castle. He transformed into his human form again, not caring if anyone could see him and entered through the open doors, the wolf pelt forgotten behind him. Everything was silent, as if dead. The mirrors had been covered and the whole place reeked of misery. Derek felt his stomach turn and covered his nose and his mouth to avoid the smell.

"He's over there. At the top of the stairs of the highest room in the tallest tower."

Derek nodded sharply and climbed the stairs three at a time, thanking his werewolf stamina.  
As he got further up the stairs, he could hear heartbeats through the castle, some close by, some far far away but he soon recognized the only one that mattered. It was still there, and Derek sighed in relief, but it was faint. Slow. As if Stiles had fallen into a deep sleep, which matched Lydia's tale.

The werewolf burst into the room, coming face to face with the King’s sword.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my son's bedroom?"

The King's eyes were red, as if he'd been crying the whole night and the whole day.

"I… uh…"

"He's Stiles' True Love," Lydia said simply, floating into the room behind him. She didn't look in the least breathless.

The King's sword wavered.

"Are you…"

"Sure? Yes. It's obvious. Stiles spent of his last days with him and by last days I mean _all of them_. He's just a moron who didn't think the feelings were mutual."

The King chuckled wetly at that and put his sword away.

"If this is true…If this is true, I'll give you anything you want."

And Derek knew that this was what people said in books but there was something in the King's eyes that told him that he could ask for his head and would get it on a silver plate.

The King moved aside and, for the first time, Derek cast his eyes upon the Prince.

He looked… he didn't look so great. His usually fair skin looked grey, almost translucent. His cheeks were hollow. His hair, usually so soft-looking, seemed to be made of straw. There was nothing alive in the boy and for the first time, Derek truly understood how joyful the Prince had been. No! How joyful he _was_! There was always a spark in him. He could never sit still for more than five minutes. Seeing him like this, immobile, was nothing short of torture for Derek.

He stepped towards the bed uncertainly, and twice he raised his hand, only to let it fall back against his side. Derek was aware that more people had gathered in the room. He could hear whispers and prayers but he was only focused on Stiles. On his soft breathing, the muffled sound of his heartbeat. It filled his ears. When his knees touched the bed, he sat down on the edge, and brushed his fingers against Stiles' skin, pulling back when he found it cold as death. He panicked for a second before the sound of the heartbeat returned to his ears.

He took a deep breath.

"I made you a love cake," he whispered. "It has lemon in it. I know how much you love lemon. You tell me everytime you come by the cabin," he chuckled. "It's probably dry by now, but I put a ring in it. The recipe said you had to put in a present for your… for your betrothed. I put my ring in it. I put it there for you," he felt a tear slide down his cheek. "I'll make you another one. I'll make you a damn lemon cake everyday for the rest of your life if you wake up now Stiles. Please. Please, wake up. Don't leave me alone. You're all… you're all I've got."

Derek brushed his nose against Stiles, shuddering at the cold sensation and, after one last deep breath, cupped the Prince's jaw and kissed him, softly and tenderly on the lips.

The books always described a feeling running through the body, like being struck by lightning. Derek had never been hit by lightening so he could only imagine what it must have felt like. And it was absolutely not what he felt. Lightning probably hurt and there was no pain here, only warmth.

He heard the gasp before he felt it against his lips and the sentiment of relief pouring out of everybody in the room, himself included, made him dizzy for a second. He opened his eyes and met Stiles' big bright whisky ones and he could have cried with happiness.

"Where's my cake?"

Stiles' voice was raspy but it was the best sound in the whole world, and Derek couldn't help but laugh. He buried his face in the Prince's neck and laughed until he choked on the sounds coming out of his throat, until he couldn't breath anymore. He felt Stiles' fingers curling in his hair and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of the young man. _Love. Ours. Mate. Ours. Home_.

"You're not wearing your wolf pelt…" Stiles said in awe and Derek smiled at him softly.

"I don't need it anymore."

They shared a smile, though Stiles probably couldn't understand the depth of this sentence, before someone cleared their throat behind them.

Derek suddenly remembered that they weren't alone in the room and reluctantly let go of his One True Love.

A second later, Stiles was smothered under a pile of human bodies, being kissed and cried on by his friends and family. Lydia looked at him smugly.

The celebrations lasted for ten long minutes, the King crying and hugging his son, a woman peppering kisses on Stiles' face, and a young man with a crooked jaw not letting him go. Two tiny fairies were jumping around, creating tiny fireworks with their magic wands.

Color had come back to Stiles' cheeks, and his skin looked perfect again. His face was more round than it had been half an hour ago, and Derek felt like he could breath again.

That is, until the King turned to face him, and looked at him from head to toe.

"And who would you be, beside my son's True Love?"

Derek gulped and scratched his head.

"My name is Derek Hale, my King."

The King raised an eyebrow, tensed.

"Derek Hale? As in Duke Derek Hale? The one accused of the murder of Cora Hale?"

Derek nodded, eyes on the floor.

"I didn't kill my sister, My King. It was a machination orchestrated by Jennifer, my Uncle's wife. She's the one who changed me into… into what I am and poisoned my sister."

"What you are?" This time, it was Stiles who spoke. 

Derek kept his gaze on the floor, not wanting to catch anyone's eyes.

"I'm a werewolf."

The woman -Melissa, Derek had heard Stiles call her- gasped and Scott -probably her son, with the way they smelled- stepped in front of her.

"Well, that actually explain the wolf pelt!" Stiles said with a laugh and, oh, Derek was taking everything back, _this_ was the most wonderful sound in the world. "For a while I thought you'd been raised by wolves and that you were wearing the pelt of one of your foster parents!"

Derek finally looked up, catching Stiles' eyes.

"You're… you're not afraid of me?"

Stiles raised an eyebrow.

"Noooo. Should I be?"

Derek shook his head. No. Never. He could never hurt his mate. 

"Well then here it is. I'm not afraid of you. _I love you_."

And Derek choked on his saliva because Stiles had just said that he _loved him_.

"You… really?"

"Really really," Stiles smiled.

"I love you too."

A chorus of 'awwww's echoed behind them, and Derek stepped forward, just as Stiles was getting out of the bed, and they kissed again. Or, they kissed for the first time. Because this kiss had nothing to do with the first time Derek pressed his lips against Stiles. This kiss was warm, tender, loving, and full of promises. Promises of a bright and beautiful future together, promises of happiness.


	4. Chapter 4

A year later, the castle of Beacon Hills was flooded with life. Guests from all over the kingdom had arrived for the wedding of Prince Stiles Stilinski and 'Derek'. No one knew exactly who he was or where he had come from, except the people from the town who recognized him as Wolfskin, the strange man always baking bread and sweets for the inhabitants of Beacon Hills.  
There was gossip flying around about Derek being a foreign prince or a vagabond Prince Stiles had fallen in love with. Epic poems were written about them. Everything was wonderful.

Well, almost everything. Because in the Prince's chambers, Stiles was on the edge of a panic attack.

"Lydia I said I wanted grey! GREY! How is this grey?"

"Well I think red is more your color anyway."

Stiles was looking at the outfit he was supposed to wear to his wedding in about half an hour. It was bright red. Bright. Red.

"Lydia, I swear to God…"

"Goddess!" Erica's voice piped up.

"You're going to change this! Right now!"

"I think blue is more his color!"

With a flash of light, Stiles' outfit turned blue, and Stiles’ face turned green.

"Allison!"

"I'm just trying to help!"

"Red!"

"Blue!"

"Red!"

"Blue!"

Stiles turned to Erica, begging her with his eyes. She huffed, she puffed, and waved her wand. The outfit turned grey and it was perfect.

"Thank you," he mouthed at her, and the blond fairy winked at him. 

Lydia pouted when she saw the outfit and floated to Stiles' shoulder.

"Can I at least just change the color of the belt?"

Stiles nodded, and Lydia waved her wand. The belt turned a bright red. Before Allison could open her mouth, Stiles told her she could also change the color of _one thing_ in the outfit and he ended up with blue shoes. Well, it could have been worse.

-

The chapel was full of guests when the music finally started. Derek was waiting at the altar, dressed in a black outfit where you could see the triskelion of the Hale family. The werewolf could hear every murmur in the crowd but paid it no attention. He was way too busy staring in awe at his husband-to-be, being walked down the aisle by the King. Stiles looked good enough to eat, and the wolf inside him was thrashing to be let out and bite and claim his mate.

And then Stiles smiled at Derek and it was like the world stopped turning for a second. There was nothing else in the room but them. 

Of course Stiles had to ruin it.

"Hi, Sourwolf. Ready to get married?"

Derek thought about growling but ended up grinning. After all, he was marrying his One True Love. That didn’t happen everyday.

The ring Derek put on Stiles' finger had a triskelion carved on the inside. Stiles smiled at it and slid a platinum band with a moon carved on the inside on Derek's finger. Derek smiled. He'd never been so happy in his life.

Their kiss was kept chaste -a torture, if you'd believe Stiles- because they were in public after all and, once they were legally bound, they turned to face the crowd.

Derek almost choked up when he saw the face of his uncle, tears in his eyes, sitting in the first row. His smile dropped, just for a second, when he noticed Jennifer next to him but he put on a brave face when he felt Stiles’ hand grabbing his own.

Stiles knew what Jennifer had done. Derek trusted his husband.

-

Derek gulped down his second glass of wine, cursing his werewolf metabolism that prevented him from getting drunk. When Stiles and him had left the chapel, his uncle had come up to him and hugged him so tightly that Derek thought for sure that he'd broken his collarbone. Peter smelled like home and grief, relief and guilt.

There was nothing to forgive, Derek had murmured in his ear, when his Uncle had burst into tears and apologized for believing that Derek could ever hurt his family.  
But Peter still didn't know the truth and there was nothing he could do against Jennifer. So he was forced to sit there, and watch as she gorged herself with meat and wine, smirking at him every time their eyes would meet.  
So he drank a third glass of wine, before feeling the hand of his husband on his tightly.

"Do you trust me?"

Derek blinked.

"Of course I do."

"Do you trust me to always have your back, to do everything in my power to protect you?"

Derek's eyes turned to Jennifer, for a second.

"Yes."

Stiles smiled at Derek, pecked him on the cheek and got up.

"Milords, Miladies. Tonight we have a special present for a very special person, who did us the honor of being with us tonight."

Two valets entered the room, holding a pair of bright red shoes with pokers. Derek held his breath. The valets put the shoes down in front of Jennifer.

"Milady. If you'd be so kind."

Jennifer turned pale.

"I don't…I don't understand."

"Oh I think you do. Jennifer Blake, you are responsible for the murder of Cora Hale and the curse placed upon Derek Hale.” Derek could hear the murmurs in the assembly. ‘Curse? What curse?’ people were wondering. “You are hereby condemned to death."

Jennifer got up, her glass flying, wine spilling everywhere.

"You think you're strong enough to stop me?"

"Oh, I know I'm not. My godmothers though…" 

At that, Lydia, Erica and Allison appeared out of nowhere, waving their wands. Jennifer was tied up with chains a second later, screaming and kicking as Finstock dragged her out of the room, after rolling a napkin and shoving it in her mouth.

Stiles plopped down on his chair, waving his hand to signal the musicians it was probably time to start playing again.

"Burning iron shoes, Stiles? Really?" Derek hissed in his husband's ear.

Stiles shrugged.

"I read it in a book. Seemed fitting for an ugly witch!"

-

The full moon happened only eight days after Stiles and Derek's wedding. The werewolf wasn't quite sure if he could perpetuate his ritual of running around in the woods and howling at the moon now that he was married to the prince but Stiles had just waved him off, telling him to go have fun in the woods and to not bring back any game to the house.

Derek had pecked him on the cheek before turning into a wolf, running out of the castle toward the woods.

He was already panting when he got there, stopping by the cabin he hadn't lived in for more than a year now. It was abandoned again and the delicious smell of freshly baked bread was long gone. Derek didn't regret it though. He was living in the castle with his mate, sleeping by him every night, waking up spooning him every morning. It was the best feeling in the world.

The wolf chased rabbits and squirrels for what seemed like hours, jumping in the river, splashing water everywhere. It was lonely, but he loved the feeling that running in his wolf form gave him. He could handle a bit of loneliness if it meant freedom.

The werewolf stopped dead in his tracks though, stopping his hunt of what seemed to be a raccoon, when he caught a familiar smell to his left. He turned around, ears perked up, listening in.

Soon enough, Stiles emerged from the dark trees, wearing a simple shirt with comfortable pants. Derek cocked his head to the left, looking at him in confusion.

"Hey, Sourwolf. ThoughT you'd like some company."

Derek barked once and trotted toward Stiles, stopping when he noticed something weird on his husband's head.  
Derek transformed back into his human form, gaping at Stiles.

"Are those _fox ears_?"

Stiles smiled widely at him, rubbing at one of his orange ear.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

"But… I don't… I don't understand?"

Stiles smiled, softly, and stepped forward, getting closer to Derek.

"Lydia never told you what my curse was, did she?"

"She told me about the eternal sleep?"

"Typical."

"Stiles…"

"The reason I was leaving every day before sun set was because I changed into a fox at night!"

Stiles had rushed the words out, as if he was afraid that they wouldn't come out if he kept them in any longer.

"You… What?"

"A fox. I changed into a fox at night. That was it. That was my curse."

Derek blinked at him.

"By night one way, by day another, until your eighteenth birthday where eternal sleep awaits. This shall be the norm until you find true love's first kiss."

Derek blinked again.

"Then why do you have fox ears? You should be human again!"

Stiles smiled, a wicked expression in his light.

"That's the best part… _This shall be the norm until you find true love's first kiss_ … Then take love's _true form_."

Derek wasn't sure he was understanding what Stiles was saying.

"So… Because I'm a werewolf… You took love's true form and so… you're…"

"A werefox!"

And before Derek could ask 'what' again, Stiles had disappeared, and in lieu of him stood the most beautiful fox Derek had ever seen. The fox playfully nipped at the werewolf's feet before darting away to run in the forest.

Derek grinned as he transformed back into a wolf.

His life was wonderful, he thought as he chased his husband. Jennifer was dead, as were Gerard, Kate and Magdalene (who it appeared had been taking the form of a crow for eighteen years, following her husband around). Derek had married his Prince Charming and he was about to live happily ever after with him.

Maybe fairytales did exist.


End file.
